Hindsight
by fowo
Summary: Doflamingo comes with a package, namely two-and-a-half ex-wives and three daughters. Crocodile wonders why he, although he knew what he was getting himself into, ever agreed to this. To be fair, it took him some thirty years. He probably can't blame Doflamingo for playing around while he needed to figure things out on his own. Set in Spain, in a timespan from 1980 to now.


_Here's to you, my friend_

_To every day of our time_

_To what goes by, and to what stays_

_Here's to you, my friend_

_I raise my glass to you_

_To what will come and what already was_

_(—Ich heb' auf dich mein Glas; Mark Forster)_

**Prologue**

_I'll be in town tonight._

That little text was enough to stick the smile to his face as if with krazy glue for the rest of the day. Other people might be put off by the tone. There was no greeting, no "how are you?", no silly little "xoxo" at the end, not even a smiley. Doflamingo himself couldn't text a simple "Hi!" to someone without plastering the message with smileys. But this was still Crocodile, and the bare fact that he bothered to text him at all was exiting.

And, of course, that he was going to be around.

There was not much distance between where the two men lived, but with their jobs and Doflamingo's little daughter, days went by without them meeting, and days became weeks became eventually months and at some point Doflamingo had realized that they were more of a Long Distance Relationship than a Weekend Relationship after all. And Crocodile was horrible with socializing. Days would go by without talking to each other, no matter how much Doflamingo tried to keep in touch for both of them.

So Crocodile being in town was kind of a big deal.

Standing beside his car in the parking lot of his daughter's elementary school, he checked the message again. It was still there, just a couple of little black pixels against a white screen. It still said the same thing. Crocodile was still listed as the contact above. So it wasn't a dream. His last message had been almost two weeks before. _Don't be such a dick_, it said, and Doflamingo smiled a little at the memory of their pretend-fight.

The school's bell rang, and screaming children started to run out of the building, a sea of naked little legs with band-aids over the knees and dirt on the shoes—their mothers had told them to watch out and keep them clean today, okay darling?— and sloppily closed satchels and cheap gaudy hairclips in curly hair.

Keeping his general attention on his phone against better judgment—Crocodile sure as hell wouldn't send another message just like that but _juuust_ in case he wanted to keep an eye on his phone nevertheless—he glanced up over the thin frame of his shades to keep an eye out for Sugar. She appeared after a while, still wearing her bear hoodie although the weather was much too warm now that it was finally the beginning of summer. She was with two of her girlfriends, talking and laughing, but eventually stopping in her tracks when she noticed her father. He waved a little at her, and she waved back to him shyly.

"Señor Donquixote," a voice called out to him, and he looked up from the phone again. A woman came up to him, her red high heels making it fairly obvious she came here from work. She was the mother of one of Sugar's classmates, and a single parent just like him, but her name eluded him. Single Moms hitting on him happened on a regular basis, and while he was careful not to step on anyone's toes, there _was_ a reason why Sugar's mom wasn't around anymore.

He flashed her a wide grin nevertheless, sliding the phone into the pocket of his capris. "Hola," he said. "What's up?"

She came to a stop next to him, close enough to be familiar, but at a distance still. She started talking about the girls and school and whatnot, and he was very good at pretending to be listening while his thoughts were elsewhere completely.

Doflamingo noted with a little disdain that his daughter thought it was okay to dawdle with the adults talking to each other. The next time she looked his way he beckoned her. She was the easiest excuse to get away from this.

"So anyway," the woman was saying just now, "I thought it would be nice to get together tonight to talk about the school trip in advance."

"It would, but tonight is _really_ not a good time," Doflamingo said, getting down to his knees to be on Sugar's height when she finally arrived. "Hello Sugar," he said gently when she gave him a hug with her tiny little arms. "How's your day?"

"Good!" the girl chirped happily. "We drew goldfish today, here's mine—" The flood of information she showered him with drowned out the conversation with her friend's mother, and when Doflamingo stood up again, Sugar in his arms, he smiled at her apologetically. "I'm sorry," he added. "Maybe next time."

"Sure, not a problem," she replied, smiling as well but he could see her disappointment. She then proceeded to pick up her own daughter and Doflamingo was relieved to put Sugar in her seat in the car.

"What do you wanna eat?" he asked when he fastened her seatbelt.

"Paella!" she cried excitedly, and Doflamingo chuckled.

"Alright. Also, we're getting a visitor tonight, so I need you to do your homework right away, okay?"

Sugar opened her eyes wide. "Is Crocodile coming over?" she exclaimed excitedly.

Doflamingo couldn't help it, he felt his smile widening. Crocodile would never admit it but he did like his daughter, although he felt a little helpless around kids. And while Sugar was a shy girl, she had taken a liking to Crocodile as well.

"That's right. So I need you to be a good girl today, okay?" He gently stroked her hair, putting a loose strand behind her ear.

"Are we gonna go down to the beach and make sand castles like last time?!" Crocodile made the best sandcastles in the world. It was impressive, really, especially since the talent was so out of character for a person like Crocodile.

Doflamingo smiled at her apologetically. "Maybe next time. I guess when he gets here, you'll already be in bed."

"Aww..." Sugar looked genuinely disappointed.

"If you get up early tomorrow I'm sure you can say at least hi," Doflamingo tried to console her, getting up and sitting down in the driver's seat. Despite being a night owl, Crocodile never stayed the morning after and was often gone even before breakfast. He would have to talk to him about that—Crocodile didn't like to put labels on it but he _was_ his boyfriend and he knew Doflamingo's daughter was part of the package, so he had to be a little more considerate.

"Okay," Sugar said gloomily. Getting up early just to see Crocodile for five minutes wasn't really a good deal. Doflamingo very much concurred with her.

"Don't be sad," he said while he merged into traffic to get them home. "I'm sure he's in town for business, so he'll be coming over late and leave early. It's not like we could do a lot in between anyway. I'm sure we will have more time together next time."

He not only said it for her, he realized. He hoped so, too.

* * *

><p><strong>1. Then &amp; Now<strong>

First, there had been María. She was the beginning, with long, beautiful blonde hair and marvelous eyes. They met, and there was a frenzy of romance and lust and longing, like in the movies. Within a month he proposed to her, the ring platinum with an aquamarine—he liked to call her Santa María, so it was fitting—and promises of a lifetime and getting old together. Corazon was his best man at the wedding and almost forgot the ring. It was a disaster, but it still made for a good story even after their separation. María was pregnant within the next six months, and when she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl—Monét—it was like light had found its way into his life.

He and María separated only two years after this, after fights and yelling at each other. She took the girl, and it crushed him.

He was 23 when he found consolation in Alba. She was completely different from Mariá. She had the temper of a lioness, the eyes of a hawk and the mouth of a python. He loved her insanely. But he thought he had learned from his previous mistakes, and he told her he had a daughter that he got to see maybe once a month if her mother felt like keeping up with the regulations their divorce brought them.

Alba was not happy about it. They were still young and already there was a daughter and an ex-wife. But Doflamingo was a charmer, and a good one at that, and when he proposed to her a year later, Alba cried with joy. The ring was white gold with a diamond. Corazon was his best man, and tripped right into the five-story cake before they could even slice it.

It took another two years and she gave birth to a daughter and Doflamingo thought she was the most beautiful creature in the world. "She's gonna be trouble," her mother had said when she accidentally set her uncle on fire on her first birthday. He called her Baby even when she wasn't one anymore. Alba left him some time later for another, but they kept loose contact. He got to see Baby a lot more than her mother, and he was fine with that.

Monét was four already at that time. She was a smart girl, and when he picked her up from kindergarten on that one Friday per month that she was allowed to be with him, he knew he had the the best weekend ahead of him.

There were women after that. Girlfriends, too. But he grew weary of all of them after a while, although he still longed to have a family of his own. When Monét was in primary school, she made a name sign out of clay for crafts class, and she didn't write her mother's name on it but her papá's, hers and Baby's included. Doflamingo hung it up on the front door although it spelt Donquixote wrong. The two girls Monét had drawn on it wore ribbons in their hair. They were sisters, although their mothers had never met. He went to the park with them and bought them ice cream and books for Monét and dresses with frills for Baby.

When he met Cecilia, everything was different. He felt like whatever he thought had been love had been a fraud because things were so much more _intense_ this time and nothing came close in comparison. They took it slow, something Doflamingo had not known he was capable of, and it ached because he wanted her so much. But she was worth it, and so he waited until she was ready.

The ring was rose gold with a pearl. Corazon was his best man and together with Monét and Baby who he was supposed to be watching—not his smartest move, Doflamingo would admit later—he managed to tear down the entire fucking _paravent_. Not only did it crash, but it fell into the pond, too. Cecilia cried the entire night. Doflamingo had thought it was rather funny himself, and he made sure his brother knew that, but he blamed him nevertheless in front of Cecilia whenever the matter came up.

In the end, she wouldn't stay either. She found out what he actually did for a living. She was simply gone the next morning, deserting their baby daughter with him. This time, he couldn't even bring himself to be sad. He had his daughter on his lap that morning, feeding her from the bottle, and felt completely content.

Through all this past ten years, and even longer when he was really truthful to himself, there had been only three constants in his life. His family—the girls and his brother, but those he did not share a bloodline with as well. Then his job, which he was good at and which he liked doing.

And then...

"What are you gonna do now?" The low voice came from his balcony. It was still dark out, which probably only meant that his visitor hadn't slept yet. To be honest though, after Doflamingo had texted him just these few words—_She's gone too, I got Sugar._—he had not expected him to show up. But he'd stood in front of his door some thirty minutes later, without any explanation.

Now he was outside, his dark coat around his shoulders, smoking. Doflamingo had thought about letting him smoke in the kitchen, but Sugar was more important.

"I don't know," he said. "I'll probably stay at home for a while, keeping my head low. I think I need to get a nanny. Oh my God, she's still so tiny. Look at her. Shit, Croc, I don't know what to do."

"Wow, stay-at-home Dad, look at you. Must be a dream come true."

Doflamingo leaned a little forward to look past the open door, frowning, trying to tell whether Crocodile was being sarcastic or not.

"So how many women does that make it?" Crocodile asked idly, blowing smoke to the grey sky. "Five?"

"_Three_," Doflamingo corrected sourly. "I didn't even get to marry Dolores and Leticia, both canceled the engagement. You _know_ that."

"I don't keep track of your women, Doflamingo," Crocodile growled. "I'd have a stack full of notebooks otherwise."

"Corazon as best man is bad luck, I bet that's it," Doflamingo said absent-mindedly, looking down to his daughter who was so fragile in his arms. "I'll ask you next time."

"I've not been to one of your past weddings and I'm not coming to a next one either, so fuck you," Crocodile said angrily. "I'm not gonna come over for dinner, I will not attend your daughters' birthdays, your _family_ is none of my fucking business. Get it into your head already. We _talked_ about this."

"I don't see how it's such a big deal to you—" Doflamingo began to say, but Crocodile interrupted him when he closed the balcony door behind him. He was an angry man and prone to slamming doors and crushing windows when given the opportunity. His calmness was more terrifying than anything else.

"It's disgraceful," he said, without looking at Doflamingo. But what he meant was, _It hurts me_. "Look, you seem to do fine. I expected you to be a total mess. Put the girl back to bed and get some more sleep. I should head back to my hotel, too."

"What? Don't be silly, you can sleep here." Doflamingo got up, the baby in his arms stirring in her sleep. Crocodile watched her cautiously, then looked around the little kitchen, the sofa in the living room next door. Cecilia's stuff was all around them. He knew of the king size bed in the bedroom.

"I'll pass," he said simply. "Good night. You'll be fine."

He was gone before Doflamingo could even follow him to the hallway.

* * *

><p>They had sex for the first time when Doflamingo was 16. But he'd known Crocodile for as long as he could remember. After the terrible thing with his father had happened, Corazon and him ended up in an orphanage, and Crocodile was there, too. Nobody knew much about the jaded boy of Italian heritage, who still wasn't very fluent in Spanish—and even some thirty years later, whenever he was upset, he would switch back to his mother tongue. But he was a good deal older than Doflamingo, and thus, cool by default. So he stuck around, no matter how bothered Crocodile was by it. He took up smoking because of him, and stealing, and one thing led to another and soon he found himself dealing smokes and alcohol and the rest was history. Things wouldn't have been much different without Crocodile around, Doflamingo thought even years later, but like this, he actually had fun doing it.<p>

Crocodile was always hesitant to be seen with Doflamingo in public though. He could be nice enough when they were alone, and while Crocodile hadn't even been a friendly and likable person as a kid, things were a little better back then.

Doflamingo was just so... _gay_. And not just the way he dressed, but actually, _literally_ gay. And he didn't even seem to think that was bad, or weird, or something to worry about at all, like any _normal_ boy would. Like _Crocodile_ did. Doflamingo liked boys and he was so _okay_ with it that nobody could even make fun of it. It was much more of a scandal when he was seen with a _woman_ for the first time when he was 18.

It was very different for Crocodile, though.

It was when Doflamingo attended Crocodile's last sports game at school before his first semester at university started. He had just passed his entrance exam, moved to his own place all the way in Moncloa. He had won this match for his team. He was high on endorphines. It happened in the dressing room when everyone else had already left. Neither of the boys anticipated this. Doflamingo just popped by to congratulate his fellow student. It really wasn't more than that. Until today he wasn't sure how exactly things went down after he had found his senior in the locker room.

Doflamingo didn't care much for their age gap in later years, but on this hot Saturday afternoon it was kind of a big deal. Dust lingered in the air, particles dancing in the light. The sun was low, stretching their shadows long on the wall. Crocodile was so adult and mature already compared to his lean, boyish figure. Doflamingo remembered seeing the fine black hair on Crocodile's stomach and naked arms, watching it with awe. They didn't even really have sex, they barely even touched. Crocodile was hunched over Doflamingo's smaller frame in the corner of the dressing room while they jerked off to each other. Doflamingo felt the bench behind him dig into the hollow of his knees, making it hard to stand. Crocodile's hot breath on his neck wasn't helping. They didn't look at each other, burying their faces at the shoulder of the other. Doflamingo could barely see anything, his face pressed against Crocodile's chest, taking in his smell, the sweat, his cologne that was way too expensive for his lifestyle but Crocodile was always so posh and unnecessary luxuries gave him a weird high even back then. He could feel and hear Crocodile's desperate movements, and he could hardly concentrate on himself because he was so eager not to miss a single muffled moan, a jerking of his hips. Sometimes he felt just the tip of Crocodile's erection, moist with precum, brushing against his skin.

Crocodile finished first, having much more routine and experience in what he was doing, and he came on Doflamingo's thigh and hurriedly pushed down briefs. Doflamingo remembered thinking he would never wash up again.

But much more he remembered the look in Crocodile's eyes when they finally looked at each other. Doflamingo still struggled to follow Crocodile. He felt hot and bothered and embarrassed because he was so nervous that he almost forgot how to _move_, hands fumbling awkwardly now that Crocodile was watching, _actually watching_. The older boy didn't edge away, he stood where he was, even after his breath had calmed down again, but the way he looked at Doflamingo was full of disgust and indignation. Doflamingo didn't understand why, and it hurt, but he was so aroused, and the bare thought of Crocodile helping along the rest of the way, with his hands, his thighs, his _mouth_, was enough to finally make him finish. He came on Crocodile's stomach, right on the short dark hair that he so marveled at. The memory of that and Crocodile's pale eyes full of disdain and dismissal was enough of a turn on for him that he masturbated to it for years to come. He even thought about it when sleeping with women. His wives. These eyes, the tightly closed lips, the memory of black hair on glinting skin, garnished with erratic spots of white liquid, haunted him for years.

Crocodile wiped them away with his towel, readjusted his clothes, and left without another word while his sperm on Doflamingo's skin still dried up and tweaked at the fair blond hair on his thighs. Doflamingo felt spent and lonely, and he remembered the way home this day to last forever, weird guilt in his mind while his body felt good like it had never before. He came another three times that day until he couldn't think straight, starting and fueling his obsession.

Crocodile didn't talk to him after that for months. Doflamingo told himself it was because he had moved away from the orphanage and university probably was way more work than school. But deep down he knew something had changed, and he didn't understand why. But his attention span wasn't the best, and there were many distractions, and between watching out for Corazon, bullying juniors together with Vergo and noticing that the girls around him started to be _women_, there wasn't much space left to worry about what he had done wrong.

The next time it happened was a few years later. Crocodile had eventually let Doflamingo back into his life after a long pause, although there wasn't much they had in common anymore. Crocodile was acing his classes and had gained a lot of respect from people _other_ people respected, and he gloated in the attention and admiration he got. So there was no reason for him to bother with Doflamingo, who'd dropped out of school shortly after that first encounter and was making his money with not so legal pastimes. They clearly played in different leagues.

But this particular evening, Doflamingo needed to crash somewhere, just for the night, and when Crocodile opened the door to his small apartment that night and saw him outside, he let him in because of reasons Doflamingo would never figure out.

He ducked through the door—the last two years had pulled him up, he was taller than Crocodile, he was taller than basically _anyone_ now—into the small kitchen and Crocodile poured him a whiskey without asking. He didn't do much talking that evening, though Doflamingo did, only stopping in between to empty his glass and have it refilled instantly, and at a later point in his life Doflamingo wondered whether Crocodile had gotten him sloshed on purpose.

They had sex against Crocodile's sink. Like last time, they wore all of their clothes, only freed what little skin mattered. Like last time, Doflamingo wasn't sure how the step between talking and groping had happened. But it happened, and they danced a frantic choreography through the kitchen, starting at the table, stumbling to the floor, propping each other up against against the counter and finally leaning over it. Doflamingo's shades were crooked on his head by that point and it bothered him, but he found no time to adjust them. He needed his hands to hold himself up against the counter, supporting his body against Crocodile's deep thrusts. It was quick and not pretty and hurt a whole fucking lot. Crocodile hadn't spent much time preparing Doflamingo for what was to come and it mattered not a single fucking thing that Doflamingo had slept with guys before. It still hurt. But it was Doflamingo who had insisted that Crocodile keep going, thinking he would otherwise burst from desire. After all those years, there was finally an opportunity to renew these cherished memories from that one fateful encounter in the locker room and it drove him _crazy_. He needed this _so much_. If it was pain he would get, then he wanted the pain. No matter what would happen afterwards, it had to happen now. And so after that Doflamingo could remember Crocodile's breath in his neck, the harsh grip on his hips and the gold rings on his hands digging into his skin. He remembered the _girth_ of Crocodile inside him and the way he buckled back at him, longing for more, more, moremoremore_, Crocodile please— _

And Crocodile simply left after that again, leaving Doflamingo behind. He was alone in Crocodile's apartment and sat in his desk chair, found his stash of cigars and smoked one that looked expensive enough to cover a few month's worth of rent. He went through his flat and opened every drawer and cupboard and learned more about Crocodile these few hours than he had ever known before. He lay in Crocodile's bed and didn't feel guilty one bit when he jerked off to his scent in the pillow, another memory that would stay with him for years. He showered in his bathroom and used his shampoo. In the end, he left before Crocodile returned, figuring there would be the same silence following this encounter like the last time.

And it did.

Doflamingo tried to keep in touch this time, though. And this way, it became apparent that Crocodile evaded him on purpose. That made things worse, because now the old excuse_—it's nothing, he's just so busy—_didn't work anymore. He turned up in front of Crocodile's front door more often now. Sometimes he was completely wasted, just hoping Crocodile would simply take advantage of him again. He _did_ get the same disgusted look like back in the locker room, and he felt it sending a hot throb down to his pants. But there was nothing more.

And he didn't understand it one bit.

But at some point around that time his new family came into his life—Trébol, Diamante and Pica before the others—and Doflamingo started to be old enough to see a bigger picture, and other things became important. Before he knew it, another few years had passed. He was 20 now and it would only be a couple of weeks until he met María and she would make him forget all about the pale eyes he remembered every night when he was alone with this thoughts.

But he hadn't met her yet and he still remembered those eyes. So after a night of drinking—when had the beer become fucking tequila?—and drunken contemplating things that could have been, and things that had changed, and how it _hurt_ and how he didn't understand why, he felt again this _longing_ inside that _nothing_ seemed to ever ease.

So he turned up in front of Crocodile's door this morning, instead of going home and sleeping it all off. But all he got to see was that there was another name on the sign. He rang the bell anyway, in stubborn denial. A man in pajamas opened him, clearly disgruntled and clearly not Crocodile. Doflamingo tried for a heartbeat to pretend Crocodile had a lover over, just to cause a scene, just to have a reason to cry and scream, just because he wanted to punch this guy, _anyone_, to take out his frustration on. But he couldn't even believe himself.

He turned and left and somewhere in his drunken mind he knew this had to end. He got his Marian apparition later, literally.

* * *

><p>He loved his daughters with every fiber of his being. Twenty years later, when all was said and done and he'd come to his senses, he realized that actually, he had never loved his wives half as much as the daughters they blessed him with. Maybe he didn't even love them at all. He feigned something that resembled love, because he needed to in order to get what he wanted. And that was the very core of the entire disaster that was his life.<p>

Being separated from Monét, just after she started walking, supported by his hands, was much more painful than the divorce from María. Their breakup was ugly, they screamed each other a lot, and Doflamingo remembered hitting her square across the face when she used that _one_ word.

He realized that had been a mistake—not because he was sorry for _her_ or regretted what he had done, because he wasn't and didn't. It was because she used that fact to get their daughter away from him. He would never, not _ever_, use force against his daughters. They were a part of him after all. Their mothers were not. But he didn't bring that up in the hearing. He knew they wouldn't understand. And his lawyer—a young guy he had only picked out because of his pink tie, because seriously what balls must the guy have to dare wearing something like _that_?!—did a wonderful job and somehow Doflamingo was allowed a weekend a month with his daughter after all.

_That_ word María had used returned later to his life when Alba found out. The stood in the kitchen and and screamed at him, and threw whatever she could find at him. He couldn't help but laugh at her the entire time. He wanted to hit her too for the words she said, but he had learned from his mistakes, and his laugh concealed the sick feeling in his stomach. Only when Baby started to cry did they stop.

It was ironic though, because when she finally left, she left him for another man and not because he didn't stop screwing around with one. Doflamingo mused it might have been because she kinda fancied the idea—she had always been more adventurous than María, and he could totally see her wanting a threesome with him and some other guy. Naturally he would never agree to that. Nobody but him was allowed to touch her, and he did break her new boyfriend's nose at some point after their breakup because it grossed him out _so much_ that he had slept with a woman who had been touched by another. Maybe they were too similar to each other for the marriage to last, because clearly Alba was mortified by the thought that Doflamingo was aroused more by men than by her.

"Pull yourself fucking together, Doffy," Vergo had said one evening after their breakup. Unusually harsh words for his closest friend, Doflamingo duly noted. Vergo was usually full of respect for him. He had really screwed up this time, hadn't he?


End file.
